Chapter 8: Time Outs and Power Ups

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Author's Note: I apologize for the lack of recent updates. I promise I haven't forgotten about this story. It's been on my mind. I apologize for suppar chapter. Hope you enjoy!

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I was in medical bay again, after the skirmish against Agent Carolina. My efforts were futile, it did absolutely nothing except give Carolina an adrenaline rush along with some rage while it gave me a headache and worry.

The Director promptly entered.

“What in God’s name where you thinking, Agent?” he asked in a low, enraged voice.

Obviously he’s upset. I still had a headache. I quickly stood up, no actual injuries hindering my standard movements.

“At least you didn’t get yourself killed,” the Director muttered under his breath. “Don’t you have to be somewhere in five minutes?”

I glanced at the clock in my HUD. I had an agility training session in five minutes. I quietly left medical bay, passing the recovery room where Carolina was, well, recovering.

Her procedure seemed to be performed effortlessly but I didn’t dwell on it. She had two more voices in her head; she’d draw enough attention later. Probably end up getting us killed too. I noticed a few agents around Carolina, waiting for her to regain consciousness.

I quietly left and headed to the training arena. When I entered the training arena it was similar to a cross between a historically accurate 21st century urban environment along with the modern architecture similar to New Alexandria and New Mombasa, like New Washington.

It was a cool evening. My Father was on leave. While he was here it was both heaven and hell. Heaven because I knew he was alive and hell because he couldn’t shake the haunting images from the war, along with the fact he made sure that I’d been working on my military strategies.

I was only six then.

We were in a junkyard, the one that was nearby our house. Father had been adjusting things all day. Now it was my time to shine as they say.

Father recently learned the importance of an old practice of Parkour, “an art of turning obstacles into trampolines, walls into runways, boxes to vaults, anything in the environment to boost momentum and get from point A to B. He’d been practicing and drilling it into his squad, but now it was also time for him to drill it into me.

Currently he had me focusing on wall jumping.

“Go,” my father said.

I sprinted toward a wall, ran on it for a half a second then turned and leapt to grab onto a ledge and climb up.

My father pressed the button on the stopwatch to stop my time. He glanced at it and shook his head. I sighed and leapt down and got into position again.

“You can do better than this, River.”

I ran the course under the scrutiny of my father and his stopwatch, again and again and again.  Oh how I hated that stopwatch. It was evil. I could be off by one tenth of a second… I would rerun it again…and again…and again.

“You’re never going to get this River, if you don’t put some effort in it. When you’re deep thick in any kind of trouble, the first thing is to know how to run. Don’t forget any the lessons I taught you…..”

My father trailed off. Something that never happened. Suddenly I saw a shadow fly over our house. It was purple and organic looking, but it was a flying ship.

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